


Epilogue

by Avacyn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Porn, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avacyn/pseuds/Avacyn
Summary: “Arthur,” Eames says. “Darling.”“Yes?” Arthur says again.“Let me take you to bed.”The moment stretches between them, and this time Arthur’s face betrays nothing, and then he says softly, “Okay.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookshop (Aja)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/gifts).



> To Aja, for getting me into the fandom and even buying me a pinboard subscription to organise my fandom shit. You are brilliant. <3 
> 
> Happy Inceptaversary everyone! <3

Arthur doesn’t look too surprised to see Eames still standing there, off to the side of the baggage carousel. Unhurriedly, he pushes his trolley over. Eames raises his eyebrows, and the corner of Arthur’s mouth twitches.

“So,” Eames says.

“So,” Arthur replies. He tilts his head back, casually, glancing down towards the exit.

Eames looks too; Fischer is making his way out of the terminal. Once Fischer is gone, he looks back at Arthur. His head feels clearer now they’re back topside; he breathes it in, the vivid reality.

Usually, Eames would be out of here by now, on his way to some expensive liquor and maybe a blackjack table; usually, the protocol is for the team to split right after the job, stagger their exits and refrain from even acknowledging each other. Safety and discretion. The Fischer job hasn’t been a conventional job, though, and although Eames has known that from the start, he’d found himself stumbling into more than he would ever have anticipated.

“Where are you headed?” Arthur asks him. “Back to Kenya?”

Eames shrugs. “Don’t know yet. Could go anywhere I like.” He fiddles with his poker chip.

“I think you should come back to mine,” Arthur says, voice low as ever, face betraying nothing.

“Oh, should I?”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, and pulls his trolley back, swings it around easily, points it toward the exit. “You should.” He starts walking without even checking if Eames is following him; straight back, tense shoulders.

“Cocky bastard,” Eames mutters, following him, and knows Arthur has heard him when he turns his head and grins.

In the cab, Eames remarks, “Happiness looks good on you.”

“Well, smug doesn’t look good on you, Mr Eames.”

Eames grins. “You’ve never been a very good liar.”

Arthur is smiling. He gives the driver an address as they get out of international terminal.

“Wait, we’re going to your __house__?”

“Apartment.”

“Your actual apartment.”

“Why, you going to rob me?” Arthur smirks.

Eames smiles back. Takes Arthur’s hand. Arthur lets him.

 

 

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

“Fuck,” Arthur says, throwing his bags down just inside the door and running his hands through his hair. “I need a drink.”

“Mind if I join you?” Eames asks, still trying to process what he just woke up from..

“Not at all. Oh, welcome, by the way.”

Eames watches him cross the lounge area to the kitchen, off to their right. The apartment is everything you’d expect from Arthur; expensive, slick, not looking very lived in.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, but I need to talk about it,” Arthur says, bending down and taking a bottle out of the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Eames says, as Arthur slides him a tumbler.

Arthur downs his drink in three mouthfuls, head tilted back. Eames watches the movement of his throat as he swallows.

“I love him,” Arthur says as he pours another drink, “but sometimes, I could fucking kill him.” Eames knows he’s talking about Cobb.

“I’d be happy to just kill him,” Eames replies, and takes a mouthful of his whiskey; it’s nice, oaky and expensive. 

Arthur laughs, mirthless. “So what happened down there?” he asks after a moment. “With Dom. With Fischer.”

Eames inhales.Thinks back. Remembers the dread in his stomach as it became obvious that Fischer’s subconscious was militarized.

_**It’s raining, and the projections are coming from everywhere, he’s shooting them down, Arthur is shooting them down too. They’re in the taxi , on the first level of the dream. Professional, controlled, ruthless Arthur slips up for a moment, frantic, ignoring the mark, ignoring their wealthy employer, to  turn and yell  “Are you alright?” at Eames. Voice fucking ragged. Demanding an answer, demanding that Eames be completely intact. It takes Eames a few tries to stutter out that he’s ok, and it’s not as though he hasn’t been shot at before a thousand times, waking or dreaming, but Arthur’s voice makes something in his chest clench. And this is only the first level of the dream. This is before they even know what the stakes are.**_

“Eames?”

“Sorry, darling,” Eames says, clearing his throat. “Fischer. It was a bit of a fucking mess. First kick came too early - “

**_His dream. Lying in the snow, the chill on his face, the gunfire, the avalanche, thinking fleetingly of Arthur, alone now in the hotel  with all those projections, limbo hanging over his head._ **

  
**_“What the hell do we do now?”_ **

**_”We finish before the second kick.”_ **

**_“What second kick?_ **

**_”When the van hits the water. I figure Arthur’s got a couple minutes, and we’ve got twenty.”_ **

 

“- so then we were scrambling to get things done before the second one. Saito didn’t make it, and Mal turned up and shot Fischer before he could open the vault, so Cobb went down to limbo after them. Ariadne followed him; I set up the kick, and Fischer came back and just had enough time for it to happen.”

“Inception?”

Eames nods. “I saw it take, it was…” He shakes his head, trying to find the words.

“And the others were still in limbo when you blew the fortress?”

“Far as I know, yeah. Guess they found their own way back up.”

Arthur tilts his head back as he downs his drink, and Eames watches the movement of his throat as he swallows.

**_He remembers the second layer, before he slipped under, letting himself be reassured by Arthur’s confidence that he could handle the projections, handle the kick. I f anyone could, it was Arthur. Arthur with his long, lean weapon of a body, with his logical, fastidious, lethal mind. Arthur briskly hooking  everyone up to the PASIV, efficiently explaining what they  needed to do._ **

**_“Security’s gonna run you down hard.”_ **

**_“And I will lead them on a merry chase.”_ **

**_“Just be back before the kick.”_ **

**_“Go to sleep, Mr Eames.”_ **

“How was your end?”

“I got tied up with projections.”

“But how did you get us out?”

And now Arthur explains; the cable, the elevator, the plastic explosives.

He doesn’t realise that he’s staring until Arthur tilts his head. “Yes?”

“You really are the best,” Eames says, trying not to sound too impressed.

Arthur has the good grace to flush a little, and he looks down, and when he looks up his gaze is just as intense and unforgiving as ever.

“Arthur,” Eames says. “Darling.”

“Yes?” Arthur says again.

“Let me take you to bed.”

The moment stretches between them, and this time Arthur’s face betrays nothing, and then he says softly, “Okay.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Arthur’s mouth is soft under his, lovely, yielding and receptive. They strip the way ex-servicemen take off kit; quick and efficient. Then Arthur is naked in his arms.

He smacks Arthur on the arse, hard, and Arthur makes the most beautiful little “uh” sound, so Eames smacks him again, and this time Arthur says “fuck,” and, “please.”

Eames bites at his throat, teeth scraping, sucking a mark; Arthur’s cock jumps and he pushes his hips into Eames’.  

Gently he pushes Arthur down, manoeuvres him onto his back, and Christ the body of a fucking point man, the muscles in his chest, his arms, his legs.

“Lube’s in the drawer,” Arthur says, gesturing.

Eames grabs it out, slicks his fingers. __You’re about to fuck Arthu__ r, his brain yells at him helpfully. __You’re about to stick your fingers and then your prick into this young, beautiful weapon of a man__.

“Oh,” Arthur moans, legs falling open, completely un-self-aware, eyes liquid and lips wet and bitten as he gazes up at Eames, who wants to utterly ruin him.

“Christ you’re tight,” Eames breathes, fucking him slowly with one finger.

“Give me more,” Arthur says, and of course he’s demanding. Eames smirks. Arthur takes the second finger well, gasping, pushing down.

Eames gives him a third finger, getting him looser, and then he puts Arthur’s ankles over his shoulders and pushes in slowly. It feels fucking incredible, and he looks down in the dim light at Arthur’s stubborn face, exhaling steadily as he takes Eames all the way in.

“Tell me if this is too much for you, darling,” Eames says, looking down at him. Leans forward, makes sure he has a decent hold around Arthur’s waist, starts to fuck him. 

The slap of their bodies together in the quiet night sounds obscene. Arthur is slick and tight and gorgeous and beautifully responsive; peaked nipples, wet lips, legs locked around Eames’ waist, urging him deeper, harder, faster. Sweat running down his forehead, head tipped right back. “Fuck, Eames.”

Eames wants to spend the rest of his life listening to the sounds Arthur is making, wet moans catching in his throat, breath hitching as Eames bends down closer, because Arthur deserves to be totally out of control for once in his life. 

“Eames,” Arthur whispers in his ear, “fuck, touch me -”

Eames reaches down, grasps Arthur’s cock, slick and hot, gives him a few strokes and then Arthur is undone, groaning and coming all over himself, and Eames takes a shuddering breath and fucks into Arthur a few more times before his vision goes white and he’s breaking apart, thrusting deep and orgasm thundering through him.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“We were on another job before this,” Arthur says. “The one we did for Cobol, that went wrong. Saito was the mark. . And then another one before that, after.” __After Dom ran__ , he doesn’t say. He sighs. “I can’t wait to just sleep.”

“ _ _Just__  sleep?” Eames murmurs. “I think we might have a conflict of interests there, darling.”

"Oh, you think you're staying?"

"Aren't I?"

Arthur regards him, frowning. “You might be useful.”

“I’m practically indispensable around the house.”

Arthur snorts. "I find that very hard to believe.” He snuggles closer, tucks his head under Eames’ chin as Eames embraces him. “This is an unexpected perk.”

“Oh, Arthur, you must know I always would’ve slept with you,” Eames says. “You have to wear such obscene trousers, darling, it’s a wonder it didn’t happen years ago.” He pauses. “I just –”  
And here, he finds he doesn’t actually know what he wants to say.

Arthur laughs a little. “I didn’t even care if you joined the team or not. I wanted Cobb to get another thief, stay out of Cobol’s way.” He pauses. “Look where we are now.”

“I’m glad he needed a forger,” Eames replies. “I’m glad you made it back,” he finally manages. No charm or innuendo or sarcasm. Just the truth.

“I’m glad we both made it back,” Arthur says after a moment. His voice is quiet, a little hoarse.

Eames falls asleep listening to Arthur breathing softly, still holding him close. Unexpected perks of the job, indeed.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

  
Eames gets up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. When he comes back, Arthur grabs his wrist.

“Eames,” he says, half-whispering.  He sounds like shit.

“Arthur?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“You still haven’t been to sleep?”

Arthur shakes his head.

Eames pauses. “What can I do?”

“Wear me out,” Arthur replies, sounding exhausted.

Eames brushes a thumb over his lip. “Alright. You lie back, darling. I’ll take care of you.” Blows him til he’s hard, preps him, grasps his hips and tilts them up and fucks him, swift and efficient and not pulling any punches, losing himself in Arthur’s body.

Arthur is mostly just soft gasps of breath, quiet moans, twitching hands; eventually gets himself off, whispering “oh god” just before he comes, shaking, & Eames fucks him through it and comes right after.

Arthur curls on his side after Eames cleans them up, pulls Eames’ arm over him; they spoon.

“You might be sore tomorrow, darling,” Eames murmurs.

“Good,” Arthur says, then “thanks,” and Eames says, “Anytime,” and kisses the back of Arthur’s neck.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“I’ll blow you if you make some coffee,” Arthur mumbles the next morning, sleepy, eyes still closed.

Eames laughs, says, “Oh, Arthur.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, darling, but that was the most matter-of-fact sexual bribery I’ve ever head.”

Arthur sits up, mouth falling open in an offended ‘o’. “Is that the best you think I can do?”

Eames just raises his eyebrows.

So Arthur looks up at him and says, slow and deliberate, with those big dark eyes, “Okay, how about this: you bring me some coffee, and sit yourself down here while I drink it, and then I’m gonna climb in your lap, and let you put your hands all over me and kiss me til I can’t breathe, and grind on you slow til we’re both aching for it, and then I’m going to get on my knees and suck your cock, slow and wet, like I was born to do it, Eames, and then when we’re both tired of me going slow, you can fuck my face and come down my throat. And I’ll love every second of it.” He looks at Eames, gaze steady. “But I want some coffee first.”  

Eames manages, after a moment, to unstick his throat and say, “Okay.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


	2. Chapter 2

 

In bed the next morning, Eames leans up on his elbow. “So you were 23 in Prague?”

“22.” Arthur frowns. “Why? How old were you?” 

Eames thinks. “I was 30. That’s not the point, I was only doing a tiny forge and stealing you all your intel, you were running the whole fucking thing.”

Arthur stares at him like he’s stupid. “No, Dom was running the whole thing, Dom and Mal.”

“Mal was doing the extraction, sure. Cobb was doing the architecture and leading the team, technically, but you did almost all the research, and you basically went executive producer on the whole thing. Cobb would say “we need this, this and this”, and then you would say, “we also need all of this”, and then you would go and organise all of it.” Eames waves a hand, trying to communicate. “You were running round shooting people! And doing the cleanup! And all that research! All that stuff you got me for the forge -“

“What’s your point?”

“My point,” Eames says, “is that you’re a brilliant point man and you don’t even know it.”

Arthur wipes a hand over his face. “Research wasn’t so good this job. I didn’t find out about the projections,” he says. 

Eames frowns. “Darling, you still got us down to the bottom level and then out again!”

“I wasn’t  _ on _ the bottom level.”

Eames suddenly feels very impatient – angry, even -, not with Arthur, but with this doubt, this guilt, that Cobb’s instilled in him. “It was an oversight, Arthur, an honest one, and you handled it. You didn’t bribe the fucking chemist into putting us so far under that we could only wake up from the one kick. And you didn’t throw everything off-course by letting your guilty, grief-crazed subconscious manifest as your dead wife out to destroy you.  And then you made another kick.”

Arthur is silent.

“That kick alone should go down in dreamsharing history,” Eames continues. “We could’ve woken up braindead. Both of us. All of us. Because of Cobb. Don’t get hung up on this, Arthur.” 

“Okay,” Arthur says, and then, after a moment, “you always knew what specificity meant, didn’t you?”

“‘Course I did, darling. I just like winding you up.”

“Fuck you,” Arthur says, and kisses the underside of Eames’ jaw. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

**_“Why did you take this job, if you don’t believe it can be done?” Ariadne says. “And it’s dangerous. I know it’s dangerous.” Eames sees Arthur frown at her. “I’ve been in Cobb’s head,” she clarifies._ **

**_Eames can’t think of anything worse than being in Dominick Cobb’s head._ **

**_“Because I can’t leave Cobb,” Arthur says. “He’d have an absolute tantrum if I tried to walk away.” And you’d never leave him in danger, Eames adds internally._ **

**_“Because you’re the best point man there is?”_ **

**_Arthur smiles. “There’s that, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with him. And I think this is very stupid, and dangerous, so I need to stick around to make sure it goes down okay.”_ **

**_“You really care about him, don’t you,” Ariadne replies, realising._ **

**_Arthur smiles a terse smile, pausing. “We’ve been through a lot. He’s my friend.” He pauses. “My best friend.”_ **

**_“Wow,” Ariadne says; she looks surprised. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You struck me as more … irritable co-workers. I mean, obviously you work well together…”_ **

**_“It’s not exactly the most touchy-feely business,” Arthur replies. “Can’t really let feelings get in the way.”_ **

**_Ariadne snorts. “Did Cobb get that memo?”_ **

**_Eames stifles a laugh. He sees Arthur’s mouth quirk, and Arthur says, “He tells me he has it under control. I have to believe him.”_ **

**_“I was wondering why you were on board,” Ariadne says after a minute._ **

**_“If I had a choice, I’d be back in LA, but I didn’t have a choice,” he replies. “I won’t leave him. If I’m here I can make sure it runs smooth, I couldn’t trust any other point man out there with that, especially knowing what Cobb’s like. And I don’t think he’d work with anyone else, anyway.” He smiles at her. “I guess you’re here for the thrill. First getting into dream-sharing, it’s like a drug, I remember.”_ **

**_“How long have you been doing it?”_ **

**_“Five years.”_ **

**_“What about Eames?” she asks._ **

**_Eames leans a little closer, interested._ **

**_“He’s here for the same reason you are,” Arthur says. “The fun of it. He likes a challenge. And the paycheque that comes with legitimate employment.”_ **

**_Ariadne gives Arthur a look. “This is hardly legitimate.”_ **

**_“It’s a lot more legitimate than how he usually makes his money.”_ **

**_Eames can’t argue with that_ **

**_“And he’s good? At… Forging?”_ **

**_Arthur looks her in the eye. “He’s incredible. Never seen anything like it.”_ **

**_Eames feels pleased, something in his chest tightens. Arthur’s never praised him so highly to his face._ **

**_“So you’ve worked together before?”_ **

**_“Yeah, a few times. He can be a pain in the ass, but he delivers. I’ve never once seen him fuck up a job. He’s a damn good thief.”_ **

**_“Huh.”_ **

**_Arthur rubs his eyes. “He knows how to piss me off, but it’s kind of a relief to have him here. Would’ve been a lot riskier with anyone else. I wouldn’t let Cobb go with a forge unless Eames was doing it.”_ **

**_“Plus you get someone to flirt with.”_ **

**_Eames raises his eyebrows._ **

**_Arthur stares at her. “Excuse me?”_ **

**_“Um, hello? The smart comments? The dirty looks you give him? The way he’s always trying to get a rise out of you? But then if you criticise him, he actually looks upset? And you’re way more critical of him than anyone else, even Cobb.”_ **

**_“I think I know when I’m flirting, Ariadne,” Arthur replies._ **

**_She snorts, leaning back on her chair. “What are you, Cobb’s apprentice? In, like, the academy of total denial?"_ **

**_Arthur gives her a look._ **

**_She raises her hands. “Fine, ok, I believe you. He’s flirting with you, though.”_ **

**_Arthur shakes his head. “It’s just his attention span. He knows if he tried it with Cobb – flicking rubber bands, making comments, whatever – Cobb would last about half an hour and then throw a punch.”_ **

  
  


**_The next day at lunch, Ariadne asks Eames to come and look over her designs again. As soon as they’re out of earshot, she asks, “So are you flirting with Arthur?”_ **

**_Eames focuses on keeping his face impassive; he didn’t think she’d confront him about it too, not really. “Why on earth would you think that?” he asks, turning to face her._ **

**_“Because it looks like you’re flirting with him,” she says slowly, the look on her face suggesting he’s thick._ **

**_“He’s fun to get a rise out of, if that’s what you mean,” Eames replies. “He’s so bogged down in details and practicality and logistics, he needs his chair tipped over occasionally. It’s good for him. He takes himself far too seriously.”_ **

**_“Right,” Ariadne says._ **

**_Eames blinks at her. “You don’t believe me, do you,” he says._ **

**_She smirks at him. “Do you believe yourself?”_ **

**_Eames raises his eyebrows._ **

**_“Well, I think he’s flirting with you. You’ll have to let him down gently.”_ **

**_Eames tries not to laugh. “If you classify being pedantic and resistant to new ideas as flirting, then yes, he probably is.”_ **

**_Ariadne is stubborn. “He totally gives you looks sometimes.”_ **

**_“He looks at me.”_ **

**_“He gives you looks! Amused and appreciative looks.”_ **

**_“We’re just colleagues, Ariadne.”_ **

**_“Whatever you say, Eames.”_ **

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

“So you don’t wear suits  _ all the time _ ? You weren’t actually  _ born in a suit _ ?”

“Is this going somewhere? I dress properly at work, unlike some people.”

“But you own casual clothing?”

“Of course, what did you think I wore in the weekend?”

“I don’t know,” Eames says, “a tailcoat?”

Arthur turns to look at him, clearly fighting not to look amused. “You’re full of shit.”

“But do you own drainpipes? Please tell me –”

“Drainpipes?!” Arthur scoffs. “How old are you, 50? I think they’re called skinny jeans now –”

“I don’t care, do you own them?”

“I have a couple pairs…”

“Good. I need you to put them on so that I can look at your arse. And then I need you to take them off again so that we can have sex.” 

Arthur looks at him, that gleam in his eye that is now becoming familiar, little smirk playing around his lips. “Okay, fine. But we’re getting groceries first. You’re possibly the biggest pervert to ever exist, by the way.”

Eames goes to shower, and when he comes back Arthur is dressed. He takes Eames’ breath away. Blue jeans tight over his ass and thighs and surprisingly delicate ankles; a thin white cotton t-shirt; battered converse. Eames wants to rip those clothes off again and fuck Arthur senseless. Bite his ass, grip vicious fingermarks into it while he eats Arthur out, pin him to the bed and make him beg for it. Spank him. Hit him, slap him, hard, hear Arthur moan, watch the way he pushes back for more, moving into the sting. Eames’ handprint, red and glaring. Slide his cock into that fucking beautiful ass. Fuck Arthur relentlessly.

“Mmm,” Eames says, taking Arthur in his arms, tilting his head to bite at Arthur’s neck. “Do we really need groceries?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, laughing softly. “Come on.”

Eames palms his ass. “This is mine later, though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling;  _ it’s such a lovely smile, _ Eames thinks, and then,  _ fuck, how far gone am I? _

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Eames is halfway through unloading the dishwasher one day when he looks at Arthur and says, “Is this ok? I mean, are we…?”

“What?”

“I’m…” Eames gestures.

“Doing the dishes?"

“I don’t know, yeah, doing the dishes, picking up groceries…. Our laundry is all mixed up…. Arthur, I kind of live here.”

Arthur looks at him like he hasn’t really thought about it. “Huh,” he says eventually. Shrugs. “Yeah.”

Eames was a little concerned, but smiles at that. “Yeah?” he repeats, teasing, fond.

Arthur holds his gaze. “Yeah,” he says, simply.

“Right,” Eames says. Pauses for a minute. “I’m going to finish putting these away now, and then you should fuck me.”

And oh, how their bodies come together.

Arthur fucks like an athlete, like he’s competing for Olympic gold. Covers Eames’ body with his and fucking nails him, right into the mattress, their fingers locked together; makes Eames come untouched, only friction on his bare cock, ridden bareback, fucked relentlessly into overwhelming bliss. They change the bed at least daily because they’re always making a mess.

 

*   *   *

 

One afternoon they’re sitting on the sofa watching something tacky and American, because Eames is too lazy to find the remote, when Arthur’s phone rings.  He goes and picks it up off the table, answers with, “Took you long enough.”

Eames can’t make out the other end of the conversation.

“Of course,” Arthur says. “Of course I’ll come.” He looks over at Eames. “Actually. Can I bring someone?”

  
 *   *   *  


“Oh, it’s real,” Eames says, watching Arthur dress before they go out. “I liked that jacket.”

Arthur looks at him, not quite incredulous but certainly unimpressed. “Are you telling me that while we were being shot at by hostile projections in a dream we couldn’t fucking wake up from, you found the time to appreciate my clothing?”

“I always find time to appreciate you,” Eames replies.

Arthur shakes his head, putting the jacket on. “Not very productive.”

“Had to find some way of keeping my spirits up. Are you really so surprised?”

“Appalled, maybe.”

“Had to find something to distract myself from the urge to snap Cobb’s neck.”

He’s still angry, bitter about what the job did to Arthur mostly, and hadn’t wanted entirely wanted to come along, but the look on Cobb’s face is worth it.

Cobb’s eyes widen as he opens the door. “What the hell?” he hisses, finally dragging his gaze away from Eames in order to glare at Arthur. “When you said ‘someone’ I didn’t think you meant –”

“Lovely to see you too, Cobb,” Eames says, pushing past him, which he knows is rude but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Is he on the run?” Cobb demands. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No, Dom, why the hell would I bring him here if it wasn’t safe?” Arthur snaps. “Get inside, I’ll explain later.”

Little feet can be heard running down the hall. “Arthur!”

They come around the corner – beautiful blonde children. Arthur kneels down to greet them.

Arthur picks them both up, one arm each. They cling to him. “Yay yay yay!” the boy says, bouncing. Arthur laughs and laughs. Kisses them again and again. He looks genuinely happy. He looks relieved. “Did you miss me?” he asks them. “I missed you. I missed you.”

“Did you bring us presents?” Philippa asks, pulling back, and the way she regards him makes her look even more similar to Cobb. Eames suppresses a snicker.

“Of course I did,” Arthur replies, still smiling like an idiot. “They’re in the car, shall we go out and get them? Eames can help us.” He looks over.

“Who’s Eames?” Philippa asks. “Are you Eames?” She looks at him. Eames nods his head and waves at her, smiling despite himself.

They get the presents from the car. “Open them inside,” Cobb says. “You can play in the living room. But not for too long, it’s dinner time soon.”

James clings to Arthur. “Do you want down?” Eames hears Arthur ask him, softly, as they head towards the door, and James shakes his head, little fists clutching Arthur’s shirt. “That’s ok,” Arthur says. He kisses James on the head. “I missed you, James.” Hardly more than a whisper. Eames feels suddenly very privileged to have seen this – to have seen Arthur, soft and loving, raw emotion across his face. The situation becomes suddenly much sharper, more real. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, he thinks to himself. I am existing in Arthur’s personal life.

Eames follows them, falling behind a little so he can really look at Cobb’s house. He feels a little sad, because he can’t stand Cobb, but this was a home. He feels awful for Mal. He feels awful for Arthur.

“Ok, guys, I gotta go out,” Cobb says. “I’m getting groceries. I’ll be back very soon, Arthur’s gonna look after you, so you be good.”

“And Eames,” Philippa says. Eames wants to laugh. Smart-mouthed brat. Just like Cobb.

“And Eames,” Cobb agrees, shooting him a look.

Eames grins.

Eames is happy to watch Arthur playing with the kids. It’s very amusing, very endearing. He’d make a good dad, Eames thinks to himself.

“Did you get me puzzles?” Philippa asks, impatient, demanding.

Arthur laughs. “Of course I did. Here.” He takes a box out of one of the bags.

Philippa jumps and squeals. “Can we do this one? Now? Can we do it now?”

It’s a 3-D puzzle, a wooden one. “Mommy would like this one,” Philippa says.

Eames sees Arthur’s fingers falter, just a little. “Yeah, he agrees, “she would. I bet she could finish it faster than me.”

“Of course she could,” Philippa says.

“Mommy likes puzzles,” James says, quietly.

“She does,” Arthur agrees, again, kissing James’ head absentmindedly, “she does.”

“Let me look at it,” Eames says, and gets it done easily. “Conman’s fingers,” he says, smiling at Arthur.

“What’s a conman?” Philippa asks.

“I am,” Eames says, “it’s my job.”

“He’s joking, it’s not really his job,” Arthur says. “He’s an actor.”

“Daddy’s a builder,” Philippa tells Eames, “but he doesn’t build houses. He builds special things.”

James approaches, holding a book. “Read me a story,” he says, and it’s a demand and not a request. Eames tries not to snort. Cobb-spawn.

“Alright,” he finds himself saying. “I’ll read it.” James wriggles up next to him on the sofa.

Eames might get a little carried away with the book; dramatic narration, different voices for every character. When he finishes, the room is silent. James looks at him, little blue eyes full of joy. “Another!” he yells. God, he looks like Mal.

“My turn to choose!” Philippa also yells.

Eames look up. Philippa is already dashing over to the bookcase, James toddling after her.

Arthur is smiling at him. “Eames,” he says softly, “I am impressed.”

Eames smirks a little. “I have more talent than you’d give me credit for, darling.”

Arthur’s eyes are dark. “I could give you some credit for that later on.”

Eames makes a face of mock-shock, his mouth in an o-shape. “You scandalize me, Arthur,” he half-whispers.

Arthur just smirks. Eames feels his cock twitch. Arthur's blowjobs are absolutely fucking unholy. 

Eames is halfway through story number five when Cobb comes back from getting groceries.

By now Philippa is on Eames’ knee, and Arthur is sitting next to them with James in his lap.

“I’m back,” Cobb calls, and they can hear him putting things away in the kitchen. He comes through to the lounge and freezes.

“Eames is reading a story!” Philippa yells, delighted.

Cobb blinks, a strained smile fixed on his face. He fidgets with his wedding ring.

Eames notices this. “Before you try to kick yourself awake, this is not a dream,” he says.

Arthur laughs next to him. “He’s right, Dom.”

“And then what happens,” James says, tugging Eames’ arm.

Eames smiles, and settles back into the story.

The kids are watching a movie in the lounge after dinner. Eames and Arthur follow Cobb out onto the porch, each with a drink in their hand.

Cobb has been on edge all through dinner, tight smiles and long, steadying inhalations, barely able to keep it together. Eames has enjoyed meeting his eye and smirking, watching him start to go red. Arthur eventually kicks Eames under the table and mouths “cut it out”.

“So are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Cobb spits as soon as the porch door is closed behind him. “Are you sure he’s not on the run? Or on a job?”

“Dom, you know there is no way,” Arthur replies, getting tense. He sips his drink.

“When you said _bring someone_ , I thought you meant like a girlfriend or something! Not _Eames_!”

“Why can’t I be his girlfriend?” Eames says.

Cobb ignores this, continuing to squint at Arthur. “Just tell me why he’s here.”

“ _This_ , Cobb, is why I’m here.” Eames reaches out and slaps Arthur’s arse, fondles it.

Arthur, to his credit, does not react other than to offer Cobb a small, pleased smile.

Cobb looks incredulous. Eames won’t be surprised if his eyes actually fall out of his head.

“What, so you’re _dating_?”

Eames looks at Arthur, hesitates. Neither of them shake their heads.

“Jesus Christ, When did this start? On the job?”

“I don’t know, kind of?” Arthur offers.

“But you didn’t even care whether we brought him on or not,” Cobb says.

“Thank you, Cobb, you always know how to bolster my self-esteem,” Eames says, cuttingly.

“Yeah, well,” Arthur says, looking pensieve, “sometimes there are things you can only really figure out while you’re under.”

Cobb does look mollified by this. “I see.” He pauses for a minute, then sighs, looks at his empty glass. “Eames, hurt him and I’ll break your knee caps.” He walks past them, back into the house.

Arthur laughs a little. Eames gives him a look. “Knee caps?”

Arthur suppresses a smirk. “I think that went about as well as it could have.”

Eames considers, and then nods.

 

*   *   *  


They talk late at night, in bed together under the covers, about all sorts of things. Arthur mentions an old girlfriend at one point.

“I didn’t know you dated women.”

Arthur’s mouth twists. “It’s been a long time.”

Something is going unsaid, and Eames waits.

“The last time I was with a woman, it was Mal,” Arthur says quietly. “Before things started to go wrong. We used to leave Dom at home with the kids and go out and drink.”

They talk, too, about Eames’ past, something he discusses with absolutely no-one.

“I was raised,” he says, “by the state, and then I went straight into military service. So my parents…”

“... were your employers,” Arthur says softly.

“I cried myself to sleep more than once.” Eames wipes a hand over his face. “Most of those chaps are dead now.”

Arthur reaches out and takes his hand.

They talk about work in general, about the job, inception. It’s good to have someone he can be completely open with. Nothing has to be secret.

Arthur points out that Cobb was keeping shit from him, Yusuf hadn’t been totally forthcoming, Nash sold him out to Saito. “I would have trusted you the least,” he says. “Out of anyone, I would have thought you’d be the one to betray me, but you didn’t.”

“I still could,” Eames says. “For all you know, this could be a long con.”

Arthur rolls over to face him, smirks a little. “Except it isn’t.”

They lie in silence for a moment. “Why’d you come back with me?” Arthur asks finally.

“Because I’ve wanted to fuck you for years.”

Arthur laughs. “Then why’d you stay?”

Eames is quiet, considers. He knows why he’s stayed, he’s just trying to think of when he started to know it. “On the second level,” he says, measures out his words, deliberate. “On the second level, I don’t know what it was, adrenaline, maybe, or you knew I was worried, but I told you to look out for security, and you made this little comment, said you’d lead them on a merry chase, and it was – the way you said it, flippant, and it made me smile, and,” he falters, “... and you smiled, nearly. A tiny smile. And that was the only lightheartedness I’d seen from you for the whole fucking job, weeks and weeks of planning. And I knew it was your way of reassuring me.”

Arthur is silent; Eames looks at him.

“What do you think?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Good enough reason for me to stay?”

Arthur smiles that little smile again, and kisses him gently.

They fall asleep in each other's arms. 

 

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter three of three coming soon! Please let me know what you thought! It's my first time writing canon so any feedback is much loved.


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